


the loudest songs on your mixtape

by bornfalling (orphan_account)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, also i don't know why they're in london don't ask, cake friendship is the best thing, i apologize for the ~smut, itried.jpg, michael doesn't have that big of a part soz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 07:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bornfalling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a rain-soaked night in London when Luke meets Ashton for the first time.</p><p>or, Calum had to practically drag Luke to the pub a few blocks from their flat but Luke is so, so grateful that he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the loudest songs on your mixtape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gigglyjaehyun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglyjaehyun/gifts).



> Title taken from "[Kaleidoscope](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pajgAaXsqs)" by blink-182.
> 
> Please note that this is a work of fiction and in no way reflects the actual human beings known as Luke Hemmings and Ashton Irwin. I am not affiliated with them at all.

It's a rain-soaked night in London when Luke meets Ashton for the first time.  
  
It's supposed to be a quiet night for Luke: there's a queue of How I Met Your Mother episodes to be watched, a bag of popcorn on the counter waiting to be popped, and an overeager puppy bouncing around his flat. All of those plans go out the door, coincidentally, as soon as Calum Hood walks through it.  
  
"Luke, mate, _no_ ," Calum says, managing to sound exasperated and fond at the same time. Luke reckons it's through years of practise. "We had _plans_  tonight, remember?"  
  
And, shit — they did. And Luke totally forgot all about them. Luke spares a few forlorn glances between Calum and his television. "I'm already in my pyjamas," he starts.  
  
Calum presses the lock button on his phone once. The screen illuminates to show his lock screen and the time flashes. He sighs, tossing his phone onto the counter. "Yeah, and that's the _problem_ , Luke. It's only barely half-six and you already look like you're about to tuck into bed."  
  
"Maybe I am," Luke shoots back, crossing his arms in defense. "I've had a tough week."  
  
Because Luke's nothing if not defiant, he turns away from Calum and flops down on the somewhat lumpy couch. They'd gotten it when they first moved into the flat and while they've had more than enough time to replace it with a couch that's actually comfortable, the pair had developed an attachment to the piece of secondhand furniture.  
  
It isn't much, the flat. There's nothing to divide the kitchen and living room, but there are two small bedrooms and a bathroom located approximately halfway between the two, so it works for Calum and Luke. Plus, considering they lucked out and it's only a ten minute walk to campus, they can sleep in up until about thirty minutes before their first classes of the day. Yeah, it works nicely.  
  
Calum sighs again and plops down next to Luke, immediately burying his face into the younger boy's neck. "Come on, Lukey," he whines. "We haven't had a lads' night in _forever_."  
  
"That's because we haven't had free time in forever, Cal. The term's over now, though, so we can go out whenever we want. Why does it have to be tonight?"  
  
"Well, I kind of promised Michael we'd meet him and one of his mates we'd meet them at the pub tonight." Even though Luke can't see his face, he can feel his sheepish smile against his neck.  
  
" _Michael_ ," Luke spits, and it's full of faux-venom. "He's been trying to steal you as my best mate for  _months_  now, Cal."  
  
Calum pulls away to find a genuine pout on Luke's lips. He rushes to say, "Aw, Lukey. You know you're stuck with me forever."  
  
At that, Luke smiles, causing almost the entire right side of his face to dimple. He pulls Calum in for a cuddle.  
  
After a few minutes of cuddling, the two boys just content with being each other, Luke pinches Calum's side.  
  
"Oi, what the fuck was that for?" Calum asks, scowling.  
  
"You've gotta get off me, you giant lug, if you want me to get dressed." Luke pushes Calum away and stands up. He stretches his limbs out before turning toward his room.  
  
"Oh, are we going?"  
  
Luke turns back to look at Calum, a slightly incredulous look on his face. "Have I ever been able to say no to you, Cal?"  
  
Calum smirks. "Not since we were six."  
  
**  
  
The pub they finally crawl into out of the rain is busy, but not crowded. The dim lighting, if anything, is making Luke worry he'll doze off in one of the booths lining the wall.  
  
The first thing he does is nudge Calum, letting him know that he's heading to the men's to fix his hair. They'd walked under an umbrella, but there were moments when the rain had fallen directly on Luke's head, making his quiff fall a little.  
  
Calum rolls his eyes, but nods. "I'm gonna go find the lads, so just look for me when you get out. I think Michael said they're in a booth."  
  
Once Luke steps inside the bathroom, he immediately regrets dissing the dim lighting of the pub, even if it was in his own head. The lights in the bathroom are fluorescent and harsh, so much so that Luke has to blink against them a few times before he can see his reflection in the mirror. He kind of regrets wearing what he is as he checks himself out in the mirror. It's just so typical of him, really: Vans, black skinny jeans, and a black Dead Kennedys shirt (and how he came upon this shirt, he doesn't recall) under a blue and green flannel. He really hopes he doesn't find someone he wants to pull tonight, because he doubts he's going to impress them in his everyday aspiring punk chic.  
  
He works at his quiff for a few minutes before he decides that it's hopeless; a few strands of his hair are going to stay limp regardless. Luke thinks he can pull it off as intentional, though. He looks at himself in the mirror once more before nodding and exiting the men's.  
  
It's more difficult to find Calum, Michael, and whoever Michael's mate is than Luke initially thought it'd be. First, he has to give his eyes time to adjust _again_ , this time to the lack of light. The pub has a sort of haze falling over it that Luke hadn't noticed on his beeline to the washroom.  
  
Luke kind of thinks this could be a setting in a book or movie. The bartender is chatting animatedly with some businessmen who look to be in their mid-thirties at a section of the bar. There's a group of girls Luke figures probably goes to his uni at the other end, all flirty and giggly. One of them sends a wink his way. He replies with a small wave and hopes that she gets that he's not particular interested. There's a group of people, obviously co-workers, huddled together over shots and empty bottles of beer. Yeah, if Luke had the money, drive, and experience, he would definitely shoot a sitcom at this pub.  
  
But Luke doesn't have any of those things, so he continues looking for his group. He finds them in a booth relatively near the entrance, so he slides onto the sticky red material next to Calum and plants a sloppy kiss on the other boy's cheek. "Hi, babe."  
  
Calum makes a noise of disgust that would've offended Luke if he couldn't see the fond smile on Calum's face.  
  
"Yuck, Luke," Calum says, wiping his hand down his cheek.  
  
"Why do you always reject my love, Calum?" Luke asks before he realized he's been ignoring the two across the booth from him. One of the boys has lilac hair and a eyebrow piercing, which is currently accenting his cocked eyebrow. The other looks less offended than confused, but Luke thinks his furrowed brows look adorable. He's sporting a blue bandana, but he has honey-colored curls just spilling out over the top of it. "Sorry, guys. I didn't mean to be rude. Which one of you is Michael?"  
  
The lilac-haired one scoffs and shoots a glance at Calum. "I can't believe Calum's told you so little about me that you couldn't recognize me from across the pub. My hair is _purple_ , Calum."  
  
Calum just groans and throws a pointed look at Luke. "He knows who you are, Michael. He's just being an arse. I'm gonna introduce you both anyway."  
  
Calum gestures vaguely at the lilac-haired guy. "This is Michael. And this," he pauses to gesture at Ashton before continuing, "is Ashton."  
  
The boy wearing the bandana smiles, and Luke notes the way it creates deep craters on both sides of his face. "Hiya, Luke. You like the Dead Kennedys? If you like Green Day, too, I'm sure we'll get along great." He winks at Luke.  
  
Luke's confused for a moment, and he's not sure if it's just because Ashton's winked at him. Ashton's extremely attractive and right up Luke's alley in terms of type, and Luke would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about doing some sort of weird body shot involving Ashton's dimple when he smiled. But, wait, what?  
  
It's then that it hits him: he's wearing a Dead Kennedys shirt. He can feel a blush rising to his cheeks but he's not entirely sure why. "Sorry to disappoint, but this is actually Calum's shirt. I couldn't decide what to wear so I grabbed it from the laundry. I do like Green Day, though."  
  
By the time he's done, he's wringing his hands in his lap.  
  
Great. Luke's gotten himself worked up over a fucking shirt. Typical.  
  
"Mate, that's not my shirt."  
  
Luke looks up at Calum, then. "What? Then where's it from?"  
  
"Not sure, but it's not mine."  
  
And that's right about when Michael starts laughing. Luke turns to look at the lilac-haired not-stranger and raises an eyebrow. Michael ignores him in favor of sliding his beer to the side so he can rest his head on the table. His shoulders are shaking because he's laughing so hard. Calum looks just as confused as Luke is, so he's no help.  
  
Luke feels a hand brushing his collar and whips his neck around to find Ashton pulling his flannel aside and fingering at the small thumbprint-shaped hole near the left sleeve of the Dead Kennedys shirt. Ashton's face is so close to his that Luke would only just barely have to lean forward to connect their lips.  
  
He's known Ashton for less than ten minutes.  
  
Ashton lets out a sigh and his breath smells like a mixture of minty toothpaste and beer. Luke _really_ wants to kiss him.  
  
He hasn't even had anything to drink yet.  
  
"Goddammit, Michael," is what Ashton says, like he hadn't noticed Luke's internal struggle. Michael just laughs harder.  
  
"I'm sorry, but what the fuck's going on here?" Calum asks, pointing his beer at Ashton somewhat accusingly.  
  
"That's my shirt." Ashton points at Luke.  
  
"No, it's not," Luke says. "This is the first time I've met you. How would I have your shirt? It's probably my brother's or something."  
  
"I'm pretty sure it's mine. The hole near the sleeve is the same, and I haven't been able to find mine for almost a month."  
  
At this, Calum joins Michael and starts laughing. "He's right, Lukey; that _is_  his shirt."  
  
Luke frowns. "Explain?"  
  
"I was trying to impress these girls with my football skills a few weeks ago, right," Calum starts, "and I fell and got grass stains all over my shirt the _one_  day I wear white. Michael had that shirt — Ashton's shirt — in his bag for some reason and he let me borrow it. I meant to wash it and give it back but I guess I forgot. Sorry, Ashton."  
  
Ashton just shakes his head and smiles, dimples reappearing. "It's alright. I should've known when I told Michael he was free to wear my clothes that it meant everyone might, too."  
  
"Why is he laughing so hard, though? It's not that funny," Luke says, and he doesn't have to mention a name, because Michael's still giggling.  
  
"It's really not," Ashton agrees. "Michael just thinks everything's hilarious when he's tipsy."  
  
******

Approximately an hour and three beers later, Luke is pleasantly buzzed and laughing at something Ashton said when the other boy slams his beer down and jumps out of the booth so quickly it startles Luke.  
  
But Ashton just smiles his dimpled smile down at Luke and extends his hand. "Dance with me?"  
  
Luke just stares at the proffered hand for a minute before he thinks, _fuck it_ , and takes it. Luke's hands aren't small by any means, but Ashton's hands practically dwarf his. He allows Ashton to pull him to his feet and lead him torwards an open spot on the floor. The music leaking through the old speakers isn't really what Luke would consider dance music, but Ashton just plants his hands on Luke's waist and tugs him forward so they're pressed against each other, and — yeah, it's nice. They continue on like that for a few minutes, slowly moving against each other until it turns into a slow grind that's threatening to short-circuit Luke's brain.  
  
"You know," Ashton says suddenly and hotly, and his lips are pressed against Luke's ear, "all I've been able to think about since I found out you're wearing my shirt is seeing you wear it tomorrow morning."  
  
And that. That goes straight to Luke's cock.  
  
"Or, better yet," Ashton says in the same raw tone that's causing Luke's breathing to become erratic, "I wonder what it'd be like if I fucked you while you were wearing it. God, that'd be so fucking hot: you'd be a whimpering mess under me but you'd still be wearing my shirt as I pounded into you."  
  
Luke whines into Ashton's ear at that  and he'd be embarrassed if he wasn't already so turned on. Ashton tightens his grip on Luke's waist and flat-out grinds against Luke's quickly hardening cock, slow and hard and deliberate. It turns Luke into a babbling mess but luckily Ashton gets what Luke's trying to say.  
  
"Wanna get out of here?" he asks, and Luke's never said _yes_ so fast in his life.  
  
******  
  
Luke doesn't remember much of their walk back to the flat Ashton shares with Michael, but he does recall being pushed against the front door as soon as it's closed. Ashton wastes no time at all in shoving Luke's skinny jeans down his legs and he starts palming at Luke through the cloth of his boxers. This sends Luke into a string of needy whines.  
  
"You look so fucking hot like this, Luke. Could look at you like this forever."  
  
Luke arches his back off the door when Ashton slips his hand into Luke's boxers. "God, just fuck me already, Ashton," Luke pleads.  
  
Ashton just stares at him hungrily while he strokes Luke's cock a few times as best as he can with Luke's boxers still in the way. It's all a heady feeling, slightly too much, and Luke thinks he may pass out if it keeps going like this.  
  
"Gladly," Ashton finally says. He takes Luke's hand and drags him to his bedroom.  
  
Luke doesn't take the shirt off all night.

******

When Luke wakes up, the sun is filtering into the room through the cracks in the blinds. The light falls onto Ashton perfectly, and he seems almost. . . angelic. Luke snorts at that, because Ashton is most definitely _not_  angelic. Ashton grumbles something, almost in protest, and flips over onto his back  
  
Luke takes the opportunity to slip out of Ashton's bed and tiptoe over to where his jeans are. He plucks his phone from his pocket and checks the time. It reads: 10:37 AM. Not so bad.  
  
There are three text notifications from Calum. Luke groans to himself, already mentally preparing himself for whatever his best friend might've said. He clicks on his messages app.  
  
[10:29 PM] Calum Hood: Tell Ashton that Michael's staying at ours tonight. He's sleeping in your bed. :p Use protection!!!  
  
[11: 41 PM] Calum Hood: Mikey says you might want to change your sheets. . . Take that as you will.  
  
Luke scrunches his nose in disgust. He  _knew_ he had a reason to dislike Michael.  
  
The last text is from this morning.  
  
[9:53 AM] Calum Hood: I bet you're happy I dragged you out last night  
  
Luke smiles, and he knows it's entirely too fond for the situation. But, when he looks over at Ashton who's now awake, propped up on one elbow, and gazing at Luke with the same fond smile, he doesn't feel so bad.  
  
"Come cuddle," is the first thing Ashton says. And, really, who is Luke to deny him?  
  
Luke walks over to the bed and lies down next to Ashton, who moves to rest his head on Luke's chest.  
  
"You know," he mumbles into his own shirt that Luke's still wearing, "I was right about how amazing you'd look in my shirt. Both times."  
  
Luke's grateful that Ashton can't see his face right now, because he knows it's probably all pink.  
  
Yeah, he thinks. He definitely owes Calum one.  


End file.
